Turn the Page
by PuffPiece
Summary: Part Seven in the Reality Bites series, in which Kelli has a party, Dean gets a present, and Sam is a Sasquatch. Follows The Comfort of Guilt. Warning: Amputee Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own are the ridiculous situations in which I've placed these boys.**

"Mister Dean! Mister Dean!"

Dean can hear Kelli's excited calls through the still-closed apartment door, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he works to get the door open and wheel himself backwards in order to let in the over-excited child and her rather resigned-appearing mother.

Tammy gives Dean a chagrined smile and a small shrug of her shoulders, her nonverbal apology of what her daughter is about to do.

"Guess what?" Kelli asks, her messy pigtails bobbing to the beat of her frenetic tip-toe bouncing, saucer eyes locked on Dean's face.

"You brought me cookies?" Dean asks, his teasing tone concealing the hope he has that someone out there still bakes with sugar. He's not sure how many more sugar-free desserts Mrs. Walters might have up her sleeve.

"No," Kelli says, shaking her head, the huge grin across her face begging him to continue their little guessing game.

He squints his eyes and purses his lips, trying for the effect of deep thought before he lets his next guess loose.

"You got a job?"

"No, silly," she says, body fairly humming with excitement.

"You're getting married?" Deans asks, eyebrows raised in question.

"Ewwww, boys are icky," she says, her little mouth frowning in disgust at his suggestion.

"Ummmmm," Dean says, studying the ceiling while he tries to pull together his next idea. "You guys came over to braid Sam's hair?"

"No!" Kelli says, giggling, while Tammy bites her lip to keep her own amusement in check.

"Well clearly, I've got nothing," Dean finally says with a shrug.

"It's my birthday!" she cries gleefully, her bouncing now making Dean faintly dizzy as his eyeballs try to follow her movements.

"Well, shoot," he says with exaggerated disappointment. "I didn't get you anything."

"It's not today silly," she says with an eyeroll that looks suspiciously like his own. "It's on Saturday. And I'm having a party!"

Dean takes in her barely-contained excitement, wonders if he can bottle it up to make his fortune. Five-year old little girl energy – the legal equivalent to speed.

"And I want you to come!" she adds on, eyes locked on his in an expression equal parts pleading and hopefulness.

Tammy raises her eyebrows at him and he now understands the meaning behind her previous nonverbal apology.

"Uhhhh," he draws out, right arm stump gliding behind his head before he can stop the futile gesture of rubbing his neck.

Tammy glances back and forth between her daughter and the man she considers one of her "bestest" friends, knowing she's putting him on the spot but unable to explain to her child why Mr. Dean might not want to spend his afternoon with a bunch of overly-sugared children. She can understand his hesitance. The mayhem she knows is likely to ensue makes her want to curl into a ball herself, not to mention the fact that she's not sure just how comfortable he is with his disability. She thinks the kids will probably be okay. It's more likely the parents who will have the questions and the stares.

"Please, please, please?" Kelli cajoles, little hands clasped in front of her heart in a gesture that's comically cute. "You could read for us! I already told Susie and Josh how good you are at voices," she adds, digging the dagger a little deeper into his heart.

 _This kid is good_ , Dean thinks to himself, glancing at Tammy whose face says the same thing.

"You know I don't do all that well with turning the pages," he says, holding out his arm stumps in emphasis.

"That's okay," she says, eyes bright with excitement, "I'll help you! You read and I'll hold the book and turn. Just like we always do."

Dean's arm stumps seek out his legs in a quick display of his nervousness over the situation while his brain argues with itself over whether or not he's ready for something like this. Being on display. With a bunch of strangers.

He's been going out in public more frequently with Sam and Laura, has been making an effort to get on with his life. And while for the most part it's okay, the gawking looks and secretive whispers still set his teeth on edge.

But the little girl in front of him clearly sees no such issues, just sees her friend. And Dean doesn't want to disappoint his friend. One of the people who've been instrumental in helping him accept who he is now.

So he gives an audible swallow, glancing quickly at Tammy before returning his gaze to Kelli. "Sounds great," he says, voice thick with tangled emotions. "Hey Kelli," he says, almost as an afterthought, "is it okay if Sam comes along with me?"

Kelli's eyes widen, her head nodding vigorously in answer. She can't wait to tell her friends that Sasquatch will be at her party too.

 _ **To Be Continued…**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own are the ridiculous situations in which I've placed these boys.**

"You sure you're ready for this?" Sam asks for the hundredth time.

"Yes Sam," Dean replies in a tone that approximates a verbal eyeroll while his inner voice is busy yelling "HELL NO!"

Sam gives a brief knock, hand still paused mid-way in the air to repeat the gesture when the front door of Kelli's house flies open, revealing a slightly shell-shocked Greg who merely gestures them inside while muttering under his breath "Get away while you still can. Save yourselves."

A quick glance around the living room gives the boys all they need to make sense of Greg's warnings. A dozen little bodies are whizzing around the room at warp speed, each with at least one weary-looking parent half-heartedly trying to keep their kid from being the one who does something embarrassing that will keep the gossip tongues wagging.

"Mister Dean! Mister Dean!"

Dean feels all eyes turn on him, the kids following Kelli over to his chair, while he can hear the parents' conversations grind to a halt as they set eyes on him.

 _Here goes nothing…_

"Hey there Birthday Girl!" he says, plastering a smile on his face while Kelli clambers up onto his lap. "How old are you today? Thirty?"

Kelli giggles, shaking her head back in forth before replying, "No silly. I'm six!" She holds up the correct number of fingers, proudly displaying her age to the room.

"Well then, it's a good thing I didn't get you that briefcase Sam wanted to buy."

Kelli wrinkles her nose, throwing a glance over to Sam who just rolls his eyes blandly at Dean's remarks, trying to keep his dimples from belying the fact that he really doesn't mind being the brunt of Dean's teasing under these circumstances. Especially when he catches the bright light of amusement evident in his brother's eyes.

"So what did you get me?" Kelli asks, barely able to contain the excitement shining in her own eyes.

"Kelli," Tammy chimes in, eyebrow raised in admonishment, flicking her glance up to Dean briefly, "you didn't invite Dean over here for the presents, did you? I think his present is his reading to you and your friends. Right?"

"Oh. Yeah," says the little girl, nodding solemnly in agreement with her mother's words.

Dean doesn't miss the touch of disappointment hiding behind her gesture and makes a point of gesturing Kelli closer once Tammy is busy apologizing to Sam once again for dragging them into this "sugar-fueled nightmare".

"Just hang in there, Kiddo," he says out of the corner of his mouth. "After the party, okay?"

Kelli's face breaks out into a smile, head bobbing eagerly in response before she clambers off of his lap at her mother's insistence, but not before she whispers to him, "I have one for you too".

Tammy gestures the boys deeper into the living room, furniture having been moved for the party, allowing Dean easier maneuverability, and makes a point to introduce them around to the parents. The boys are polite, their years of having to interview victims, family members, and witnesses serving them in good stead in these types of circumstances. Although Dean finds himself shifting in his chair more than usual, the weight of so many sets of eyes making him squirm.

He's saved the continued discomfort of the lingering stares (at least from the grown-ups) by Kelli, who tugs on his arm and directs him over to an open area of the carpet that's been designated as the "Reading Nook", if the banner hanging across the corner is anything to go by.

Sam's dimples make an appearance as he glances across the room, catching his brother and Kelli deep in conversation, heads bowed together as they figure out which books they'll work their way through. He still can't get over the bond between the two of them, something he's remarked upon to Tammy on more than one occasion.

Her response is always, "Thank God someone out there has more energy than I do."

But right now, what his brother has is something more along the lines of the mojo of the pied-piper, if the way all of the kids are seated around his wheelchair is anything to go by. Justin had been right that day Dean had locked himself out of their apartment – his brother is a frickin' child whisperer.

Thirty minutes later and even the adults are under Dean's spell. Well, almost all of them. The exception being one of the fathers, who Sam can't help but overhear saying how he can't believe Tammy and Greg let the "freak show" into their kid's birthday party. "Probably scar these poor kids for life."

"Hey man," Sam says, using the full advantage of his height and his barely contained rage to loom threateningly over the paunchy polo shirt-wearing middle-aged man. "That's my brother. He's not a freak show. He's a human being. And he saved my life." His chest heaves as he fights to keep his clenched fists at his sides and any further emotions from spilling out of his mouth.

The man blanches at Sam's imposing image, too stunned to utter any further words either in apology or provocation, and the two of them engage in a rather charged stare-down before their hostess intervenes.

"Hey Sam," Tammy says, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch almost imperceptibly. "You okay over here?" she asks, eyes darting between the two men. She flicks her glance over to her husband who gives a small head nod towards the offending father, and makes a point of telling the man she and Greg will be more than happy to run little Johnnie home for him after the party while steering him rather forcefully out the door.

"Sorry," Sam mumbles to Tammy when she makes her way back over to him sans one guest, upset at himself for having lost his cool.

"Don't be," she says, sliding her eyes his way, her eyebrow raised in a wry expression. "Guy's a jerk. Greg's threatened to punch him at least twice that I know of. And I don't think anyone else here will be sad to see him go."

As Sam glances around, the truth of Tammy's words are almost palpable in the air. The conversations of the parents seem to have taken on a much lighter feel and the little pockets of grown-ups seem much more concerned with figuring out how to stop their child from putting his hand down his pants/picking his nose/pinching her younger sister (it just depends which group Sam tunes into) than with what either of the Winchesters are doing.

"Besides," Tammy continues, a humorous glint in her eyes, "if I have to choose between him and your brother, your brother wins. Hands down."

They both turn their attention to where Dean continues to hold court, quite literally, it appears, if the crowns atop his and Kelli's heads are anything to go by. Kelli is very seriously turning the pages while Dean verbally enacts each and every character with the patience and enthusiasm born of someone who's spent way too many years entertaining a younger sibling.

The squeeze in Sam's chest reminds him of how lucky he was that he had Dean growing up. And of how lucky he is to still have him at all.

 **To Be Continued…**

Author's Note: Thanks to you readers, followers, and reviewers who have stuck with this story line. Mandy – hang in there; I have something rattling around in my twisted pea brain that might be right up your alley…


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own are the ridiculous situations in which I've placed these boys.**

"Alright everybody," calls out Tammy, clapping her hands together to gain the attention of the room's inhabitants. "Who wants cake and ice cream?"

Sam plasters himself against the wall of the living room to avoid the stampede of little bodies as they make their frenetic way to the kitchen, the mellowness bestowed by Dean now traded in for excited anticipation of the promised sugar rush.

His attention is diverted from the general melee taking place in the next room by a gentle tug at the level of his knee. He looks down, only to find a slightly disheveled-looking little boy staring back up at him, eyes round, wide mouth hanging open.

"Hey there," Sam says, kneeling down to the boy's level.

The boy adjusts his head to Sam's new lower height, the rest of his face and body remaining locked in place as the wide-eyed stare becomes rather disconcerting due to the kid's failure to blink.

"Uhhh," Sam says, looking around to see if any of the parents are paying attention, trying to figure out if the boy needs some help. Hopefully not in the toileting department.

The unblinking stare continues for a few more seconds before the boy slowly closes his mouth and gulps, one slow blink accompanying the movement. He draws in a disproportionately large breath and exhales, then asks, "Are you Sasquatch?"

Sam struggles to keep his Bitch Face in check, not wanting to unleash it on this poor unsuspecting child. His glance in Dean's direction catches his older brother's smirk, having overheard the boy's earnest question, and lets his Bitch Face fly in Dean's direction instead before schooling his features again for the kid.

"My name's Sam," he says, extending his right hand for a handshake.

The boy shakes his hand solemnly, not uttering another word and barely managing to eke out another blink, then turns and darts back towards a pack of kids huddled together just inside the kitchen. As Sam straightens himself back to his full height he shakes his head and lets out a resigned sigh as he hears the little boy proudly telling his friends that Kelli was wrong. "Sasquatch is a big hairy beast, but he's not smelly."

"I'd beg to differ," says Dean wheeling himself over to his brother, still clearly enjoying the awkward moment Sam's just endured. "You're plenty smelly."

"Jerk."

Dean glances around, checking on little ears that might be hiding in the vicinity, before letting a quietly muttered "Bitch" escape out of the corner of his mouth.

"So," says Sam, wanting to quickly get himself off of the conversational hot seat, "seemed like you guys were having fun over there."

Dean shrugs, unable to keep the self-satisfied smile from creeping onto his face. "Maybe. Kelli's a good kid."

"Oh come on," Sam replies, mentally nudging his brother. "Admit it. You like this kind of stuff. And you're good at it."

"Yeah. Well."

"Seriously. Maybe you should think about doing this more often."

"What, rent myself out for little kids' parties? Sure – the quadruple amputee storyteller; that'll go over well," he says, the sarcastic tone of his voice combined with the cocked eyebrow telling Sam what he thinks of that idea.

Sam just rolls his eyes. "That's not what I meant." But it kind of is. Just not in that particular setting. He decides to drop it for right now, vowing to come back to it later after the idea's percolated in his brain a bit longer.

"Alright guys. You too," calls Tammy, breaking into Sam's whirring brain, a plate in each hand extended towards the brothers.

Sam follows Dean across the living room, reaching out and taking the dessert-laden plates from their hostess. He begins to hand one of the plates over to Dean, withdrawing it when he sees the flush creeping onto his brother's face.

The adults are scattered around the kitchen, chattering amongst themselves while they eat off of the plates held in their hands while the kids are gathered around the long fold out table that's been set up for the occasion.

And while Sam can easily blend in with the adults, Dean isn't so lucky. He's not at all convinced he'll be able to keep the plate perched on his lap without it falling off or getting himself covered in the sticky dessert. And there's not a chance in hell that he'll let Sam feed him.

He does a quick run-through of his options and wheels himself over to the table, parking himself at one of the ends where there's no chair, giving a reluctant smile to Kelli, whose face lights up from her spot several seats down.

She scampers up, quickly pulls rank with the child seated next to him, and engages in a rapid-fire round of musical chairs in order to take her seat next to Mister Dean.

"You good?" asks Sam, setting the plate of cake and ice cream down in front of his brother.

"Yep," replies Dean, digging his adaptive fork and spoon out from the side pocket of his wheelchair. He makes quick work of getting the fork settled onto his right stump, the spoon taking up residence on his left, doing his best to pretend that he can't feel the weight of the stares coming from adults and kids alike.

He's eaten in front of Laura, her aunt, and many times in front of Kelli. Has been eating out at restaurants more in front of perfect strangers. But this is a lot of people packed together, a lot of eyeballs watching his every move, a lot of curiosity and morbid fascination directed his way.

"Hey Mister!" calls out the same little boy who had asked Sam about being Sasquatch.

Dean merely raises his eyebrows in response, mouth full of delicious sugar-filled goodness.

"Why are you wearing your fork and spoon?"

Dean practically chokes on the bite of cake that he was in the process of swallowing, face flushing quickly again as he hears the other conversations grind to a halt.

"Johnnie, don't be a dumb head," Kelli says, shaking her head, drawing a half-hearted admonishment of "Kelli" from her mother which she ignores. "He has to. How else is he gonna eat?" she says matter-of-factly.

"Well it looks stupid," says Johnnie, persisting in quickly becoming one of the least favorite party-goers in the eyes of the Winchester brothers (only rivaled by his father in Sam's eyes).

"Well, I think it's neato," Kelli says, barely restraining herself from calling the boy stupid in reply. "I bet you couldn't do it," she adds in a challenging tone. "It's hard."

Sam and Dean share a slightly panicked glance, recalling Kelli's own attempts at using Dean's utensils. While he's mastered their use (through necessity, sheer determination, lack of other viable options, and only after countless hours of practice), every time Kelli's coerced Dean into letting him use his "special silverware" the brothers have had to practically power wash their kitchen.

"Tell you what," says Dean, eager to head this potential disaster off at the pass while also trying to sate some of the kids' curiosity as well. "How about I pass around the fork. You can each try it on, practice picking up a bite of cake. But no eating it – okay? Cause my germs are already on them," he says, punctuating his last statement with a wrinkle of his nose to get his point across.

He looks around the room, garnering a nod from each child around the table, then glances up at Sam, giving his brother his "I've got this" head bob.

Sam, meanwhile, is busy trying to figure out how his brother continues to amaze him.

A sentiment that seems to be echoed by the other adults in the room, if the expressions of astonishment on most of their faces are anything to go by.

The next half hour is filled with furrowed brows and concentrated lip biting as each child takes their turn trying to use the fork, a few of the adults making the attempt at the urging of their child as well.

By the time most of the party-goers have cleared out, Dean's earned his fair share of additional converts – children who can't wait to hear him read again and parents who have respect for how he handled a potentially awkward situation – while Sam has the distinction of being the non-smelly Sasquatch.

"So unfair," Sam mutters as yet another little body makes a point of sniffing him before being dragged home by an apologetic parent.

"Oh come on, Sammy," Dean says, not even coming close to keeping his smirk in check. "You're Sasquatch. Own it. Be the biggest, hairiest, Sasquatch you can be."

"Shut up."

 _ **To Be Continued…**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own are the ridiculous situations in which I've placed these boys.**

"Thank you, Mister Dean," Kelli tells him, practically vibrating. Either with the load of sugar from her cake and ice cream or from excitement, it's hard to tell.

"Yes," echoes Tammy, "thanks so much for putting up with all of this. The kids had a great time. And I think the adults actually enjoyed it too," she tacks on with a touch of bewilderment. "Kelli wanted to get you something to say Thank You." She leans down next to Dean's wheelchair, appearing to tie her shoe and murmurs under her breath to him, "I hope this is okay…"

She's cut off by Kelli, who proudly pulls her hands from behind her back, thrusting their contents towards Dean, who does his best to hold onto the rather shapeless pieces of cloth between his residual arms.

He quirks an eyebrow, glances in turn at Kelli and then at Tammy, and then returns his focus to Kelli's gift, trying to turn the objects in his tenuous grip in order to figure out what they are.

"Here," Kelli says, taking back one of the items while draping the other across the arm rest of Dean's wheelchair. She gently grasps his right arm stump and straightens it out, placing the object onto it, shimmying it up until it's encasing his arm up to his bicep.

Dean looks at the thing, takes in the snug-fitting light blue cloth with the little nonskid plastic grippers, and can only sit immobile while Kelli does the same to his other arm.

"Now," she says, giving a satisfied nod with her task. She hands Dean one of the books they'd read earlier and he takes it from her, placing it on his lap, eyebrows furrowed as he continues to try to figure out Kelli's plan. She points to the book and says, "Turn!", a smile breaking out over her face.

"Yes mam," he says, his expression changing from perplexed to appreciation as he follows her orders, the nonskid grippers helping immensely in his ability to turn the pages of the book.

It's still somewhat of an awkward process, trying to tease the pages apart with the ends of his stumps, and he's glad there's not a lot of prying eyes catching him in this vulnerable moment, Sam and the few remaining guests pow-wowing about something in the far corner of the living room, but it's a hell of a lot easier than it had been.

"They're nonslip socks. With a few modifications," Tammy says in explanation. "Kelli actually came up with the idea during a visit to her grandmother the other week. Wouldn't stop chattering about it. Nearly drove me out of my mind," she says, the statement said with a fondness that belies the actual words. "Hope you don't think we overstepped our boundaries," she adds, her expression showing real concern.

Dean rotates his arms, flexes his elbows, and gives a her a shake of his head. "These are great. Don't know how we didn't come up with it. Thanks, Kelli. These are awesome," he says, high-fiving the little girl who giggles when she has to jump to complete the task, Dean holding his arm just out of her reach.

"Okay, kiddo. Your turn." He reaches down into the pocket of his chair, noting how much easier it is to get a grip on Kelli's present with the socks on his stumps, and pulls out the little booklet Sam had helped him put together.

The boys had had quite the time figuring out what to get a six-year old for her birthday, Sam vetoing Dean's suggestions of a bag of M&Ms and a dustpan and broom ("But she loves candy and helping me clean", he'd argued), while Dean had repeatedly told Sam to stop being such a buzzkill. And so they'd compromised, getting her something that the both of them felt comfortable with, Tammy agreeing when they'd tried to pick her brain as well.

"It is a book?" Kelli asks, little face furrowed in concentration as she tries to make sense of the small rectangular booklet made of construction paper and held together by ribbons tied through hole punches along one side.

"Kind of," Dean says, reaching out and taking it back from her. "It's a coupon book. With stuff to do." He leafs through the pages, pointing out the coupons for "One trip to the Ice Cream Emporium with Mr. Dean and Sasquatch", "One trip to King's Park with Mr. Dean and Sasquatch," "One trip to Christmas Village with Mr. Dean and Sasquatch", and "One trip to Movieplex for a movie and one candy treat of mutual agreement" (the last phrase to that one having been added on at the bequest of Tammy, Sam hastily agreeing that letting Dean and Kelli run rampant at the candy counter at the movie theater would likely spell disaster for all involved).

Kelli's face breaks out into a grin as she grasps the concept of the promise of the upcoming hours of activities with her bestest friend and Sasquatch and she clambers up onto Dean's lap, enveloping him a hug.

"And there's one more secret gift," he says keeping his voice just low enough for her and Tammy to hear. "This one is for you to use right now," he says, pulling out a loose paper that he had tucked under his thigh until the right time. He hands it over to Tammy and asks her to read it to Kelli for him. Which she does, once she's able to stop the tears of laughter from almost choking her to death.

"Are you sure?" she asks, wary eyebrow directed at him.

"Yep," he replies, eagerly anticipating the response to this present by both of the involved parties.

He doesn't have to wait long, Sam's Bitch Face making a fast and furious appearance once he's read through the contents of the paper Kelli presents him, his narrowed eyes threatening bodily harm to his brother even as he allows the little girl to docilely lead him over to the living room sofa, resignedly settling himself in for the completion of Kelli's present.

Allowing Kelli to braid his hair.

Dean takes the next few moments of relative quiet (Kelli now chattering away to a long-suffering Sam while Tammy has joined Greg on the opposite side of the room) to contemplate Kelli's gift and what it might allow him to do.

He still remembers the feeling of the compression wraps and elastic stump shrinkers he'd had to wear on his residual limbs for months after his injury. They'd been meant to help keep the swelling of his newly redesigned limbs in check, get them in shape for prosthetics. And while he guesses they'd done their job (at least with the swelling part), they'd also compounded the sense of helplessness and claustrophobia he'd felt almost 24/7. When the nurses (and later Sam) had had to help him get the tight-fitting elastic sleeves on and off of his stumps, because he didn't have the ability to do it himself. Before he'd learned how to manage the most basic of tasks with his new body, including rolling over and sitting up. When all he'd had were a whole lot of doubts and questions and not a lot of answers.

And while he's not the most self-sufficient person around (in fact, he's by far the least able-bodied person he knows), he has managed to make quite a bit of progress. And right now, Dean's fighting hard to prevent Kelli's well-meaning gift from sending him back to a place he really, really doesn't want to be.

Because he can see their upside. Has already seen how helpful they are. Thinks they'll probably help him keep a grip on things that tend to slide right out his fingerless grasp (like pens and pencils), thinks they might help with some of the screw top lids he's had trouble with, thinks they might even be helpful in some of his longer-range planning.

Because if he can turn pages in a book, then he might just be able to get back to some form of more heavy duty hunting. Not the actual physical part, but at least the research. The internet can only take you so far – the older, more obscure texts don't even know what the internet is.

So he decides that despite the associated memories Kelli's gifts evoke, he'll work at getting comfortable with them. Proficient even. Isn't quite sure how he'll manage to get them on when Sam's not around, but figures that he'll learn. Or die trying.

He makes short work of freeing his arms, tugging the socks off carefully with his teeth and laying them in his lap (chest releasing a bit when his residual limbs are no longer confined) before wheeling over to where Kelli's having a rather one-way discussion with Sam, tiny hands busily trying to corral Sam's hair into some semblance of a hairstyle which does little more than cause his brother to resemble a deranged crossdressing Spice Girl.

Dean wonders if this isn't the impetus he needs to finally get Sam's hair into something he and his father had been harping on him to do for decades, slightly disappointed that if that is the case, he won't be the one to do the honors.

"You about ready?" Dean asks, unable to keep the smirk off his face at the nonverbal "fuck you" that Sam's face sends his way.

"Where's your presents?" Kelli asks, forehead wrinkled as she tries to figure out why Dean's gifts aren't still where she put them.

At Sam's questioning glance, Dean holds them up, explaining Kelli's thoughtfulness to his brother.

"Well, they're great for turning pages," he says to Kelli. "Perfect, in fact. And I think they'll really be helpful with some other stuff too. But you don't wear your mittens indoors do you?" he asks, trying to give her some sort of explanation he thinks she'll buy without divulging the real reason he'd had to take them off when he did.

"Oh, okay," she replies, readily accepting Dean's explanation.

"Dude," Sam says on their way out the door, inspecting Kelli's gift to his brother while considering its potential uses. "Did we just get out-MacGyvered by a five-year old?"

"I'm six now!" Kelli calls back, having heard Sam's rhetorical question. Her next question has them shaking their heads and moving just a tad bit quicker, glad to be getting out of the line of her never-ending inquisitive fire while they can.

"What's a MacGyver?"

 _ **THE END**_


End file.
